whose (s)not to blame?

20May11

My oldest daughter, sweet, darling 10-year-old that she is (God help me), suffers from chronic sinus issues and has battled the past two weeks with the last round.  It’s been a struggle to get her to throw her tissues in the trash, take her sinus meds, her nose spray, her vitamins.  She’s ten, the age of reason, right?  She doesn’t need me to remind her or tell her anything.  My confession? It’s awful, I know, but I really can’t stand listening to it anymore.  And, I’m not the one that is suffering.  (cue the: sneeze, cough, sniffle…)

This darling daughter of mine reminds me a bit of Pig Pen; she’s a mess (which is troublesome for an anal retentive clean freak mom).  I mean, the fingernails are always filthy, the hair constantly in her mouth like a pacifier, at any given moment it looks like she’s back from an episode of MASH with dirt smudged across her face. Her feet stink.  It’s horrible – the smell that is. Maybe I should feel bad for bashing her growing feet but they are nasty. When her shoes come off in the car, I want to vomit.  When her shoes come off at home, I want to vomit.  We’ve had to implement the “go wash your feet immediately upon exposing your skin” rule so as not to offend those of us that live here.  I’m admitting this because it’s my understanding that parents of boys share this banter all the time – I’m joining you despite the lack of testosterone in my house.  (repeat here: cough, sniffle, sneeze…)

I’m sick.

I am typing now because I spent five hours on the couch this afternoon and evening.  I let me husband bring me soup.  My middle daughter rubbed my back.  The youngest slept on my lap.  I whined, sniffled and coughed my way through the results show (Go Scotty, Go Scotty, Go!).

I never get sick.

Hell, I am in the middle of a two-week detox.  I gave up alcohol Sunday thru Thursday.  I’m doing P90X.  I shop at the farmer’s market.  I buy organic meat.  I take multi-vitamins, B vitamins, fish oil, acidophilus.  Yes, I drink coffee.  Yes, I eat sugar.  Yes, I consume real butter.

But, I never get sick.

And yet, before today, I’d never jumped out of a shower, grabbed a towel and dried off in a swirl of hidden snot.

SNOT.

Gross.  I know.  You are cringing.

But, like I said, she’s ten.  She’s got sinus issues.  She’s learning.  I should be grateful it was in a towel and not on a kitchen dishcloth or a couch pillow or, god-forbid, her fleece jacket sleeve.

But, there it was, wrapped around my leg.

Awesome.

I have met many a gross and unexpected thing over the past ten years. (You too? Please share.)  But, reveling in the few moments, the few RARE moments of pure, post-shower cleanliness are sacred to me.  Once I walk out, get dressed and exit the bathroom, it ends. Kid grime and workout sweat and germs from everywhere else take over so, yes, I relish those few minutes immediately after the shower turns off while the air is humid and your soul feels disinfected.

So when you spend those moment wrapped up in your kid’s snot, unknowingly. . .

Really, can you blame me for blaming?

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